


The Words They Don't Say

by Ragingstillness



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:05:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5500010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ragingstillness/pseuds/Ragingstillness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not puppyshipping. Seto and Joey are so very similar in many aspects of their lives but yet they continue to hate each other fiercely. I’ve always wondered what would occur if they managed to finally air their grievances and perhaps learn to respect the other even if they still can’t be friends. NOT PUPPYSHIPPING! (I can not stress this enough)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Words They Don't Say

It started on a day like any other. Class had just finished and Joey was walking down the eleventh grade hallway, planning to walk home with his friends. Yugi was away at a Duel Monsters tournament but right before he left, he’d finally declared his love for their friend Tèa. In Joey’s eyes this meant she was now eligible as the prime receiver of merciless teasing. And boy was Yugi going to get it, as he was supposed to return today and Joey had stored a lot of sassy remarks that only worked with the couple together. The group was going to Tristan’s house to do homework which was quite a ways away and he planned to make the new lovers as uncomfortable as he could during that time. 

Joey turned a corner and spotted a group of upstart tenth graders crowded around another younger boy, probably a ninth grader. You could immediately tell they were tenth graders by the false swagger, convinced that once they survived ninth grade they could survive anything. 

The ninth grader was just obvious because he looked scared. The younger boy was wearing a long sleeved yellow shirt but one of the arms had been scrunched up to the elbows and it was this arm that one of the tenth graders held in a malicious grip, preventing the boy from pulling the sleeve down. The tenth graders had formed a circle and seemed to be commenting about something on the ninth grader’s arm. 

Bullies, the lowest of society. Anyone who thought they had the right to make themselves feel better at the expense of others gained no points in Joey’s book. He himself had been one just a year or so ago, but gaining Yugi’s friendship and the camaraderie of the entire group had changed his outlook on the world completely. Now he saw such people as absolute scum. 

It was one of the reasons he hated Kaiba so much. A worthless bully who had somehow managed to accrue an inordinate amount of wealth and enjoyed lording it over anyone who he could get his hands on. Selfish jerk. Joey couldn’t even understand how Kaiba could insult someone constantly and still glean the same amount of pleasure from it. That cocky smirk played across Joey’s mind whenever he got especially angry or was working out with the punching bag in his basement. 

Joey got closer to the group of boys and began to be able to hear what they were saying. The one with his grip on the other’s arm was chortling and presently reached out with his other hand to poke the boy’s arm who visibly winced. 

“What’s this, brat? Bruises? Your old man knocking you around? Goodness knows you deserve it, that essay you wrote barely got a B+! I told you I wanted an A.” 

Red hot anger flared across all Joey’s senses. When his parents had divorced his Dad had gotten drunk every night to try and forget his Mom. After a couple nights, when Joey’d wandered into the room on accident, his father had decided it was suddenly Joey’s fault his mom had left and had descended upon the ten year old with a fist. He only got in one or two punches before passing out but the damage was done. Joey’s jaw was almost broken and he spent a week hiding in his room and crying tears of sadness mixed with pain. 

There was nothing quite like it. The fear he suddenly had of a member of his own family. Fear? Why on Earth would he fear the man who took him to the beach and threw the beach ball so high the wind carried it into the ocean? Joey’d cheered his lungs out as his Dad swam out to get the ball before the waves took it away. When Mr. Wheeler got back on the sand, he handed the ball to his son with a ruffle of his hair and a huge smile. Now, this same man was causing him pain and yelling at him, using words Joey had heard his mother shush his father for. 

Some victims of abuse say they begin to see their abuser as a different person. But Joey disagreed, the horror of abuse from a family member stemmed from how they weren’t a different person. They were the same, but they were hurting you and wouldn’t stop. He still had memories of hiding bruises and putting band-aid on cuts from his father’s rings. That was the lowest part of his entire life. 

The only cure had been time and the acceptance of a new tough-guy attitude that kept his father quiet in fear of retaliation. Fear? Why should he have to keep his father in check with fear? It was unreal. 

About a year ago he’d cracked down on his father’s alcohol consumption, and the beatings had all but stopped. His father’d even apologized once or twice. Joey wouldn’t believe it. He couldn’t, not after the memories that would never go away. 

€€€Recently, however, a douche-bag friend of his father’s had begun to sneak him alcohol. Not a lot, just enough for him to begin fighting with his son again. Needless to say, there were less bruises taken by Joey now, but the situation wasn’t great and he was considering calling someone. Someone who’d send his father to therapy. Joey was sixteen now, he could handle living on his own for a couple months. But making fun of a helpless victim who probably barely knew the psychological scars were forming was too much. 

He marched harshly towards the group, growing more incensed with each word from the bully’s mouth. 

“I hope you get smacked. Kids like you need smacking, it builds character.” 

There was that phase Joey hated the most. More than anything the stupid “building character” argument never had sat right with him. Unless character was some sort of twisted synonym for psychological scarring, it was BS to even suggest that abuse could be productive. 

Joey was maybe ten feet away now, a game plan to beat the crap out of each and every bully already worked out.

“Hey ***HOLE!” He called. 

The bully turned his head slightly towards Joey but before Joey could continue with a prelude to a fight, someone else sent the bully flying with a vicious right hook. What a punch, the bully’s face snapping hard to the left and back, his upper body rolling into his friends with the impact. The kid actually stumbled, blood oozing from his nose within milliseconds. Joey almost tripped in surprise. Standing on the other side of the powerful fist was the very person he hated most. 

Seto Kaiba took another step towards the bully, grasping both sides of his collar in a single hand, and slammed the boy into a locker. The look in his eyes was like nothing Joey’d ever seen before, even when someone kidnapped Mokuba. A harsh, burning, dullness shone through cobalt blue, as though he was punching the kid with his gaze too. 

“Don’t. Ever. Make fun of someone for being abused. It is SICK, it is WRONG, and if you do anything but apologize and leave this kid alone for the rest of your worthless life, I will slam your nose up into your skull until the bone fragments pierce your brain, ARE. WE. CLEAR?” 

The voice that slipped between lips usually so smug was also a shock. It was like tearing nails out of wood, the cracked earth of a desert. Without even trying, Joey knew this was a voice Mokuba had never heard. 

The other boys stood frozen, too scared to even help their leader, who was currently sputtering to speak through the blood running down his nose and dripping onto Kaiba’s hands. He finally settled for just nodding. He turned to the ninth grader and dropped into a dogeza. It was old fashioned but Joey certainly agreed the situation required it. 

“I am very sorry,” the bully intoned, a tremor apparent in his voice. “I’ll never bother you again.” 

The ninth grader just shuddered and muttered some unintelligible form of acquiescence. The bully got up and ran away down the hall, his friends slinking away with him. Now the poor ninth grader had gone for the frying pan to the fire. He’d escaped bullies but was facing a man with blood literally on his hands and cruelty in his eyes. 

His fear was unfounded, however, when Kaiba removed a small pad of paper from inside his long white coat, having obviously been on his way to work. He pulled out the attached pen, not caring about the blood staining the polished wood. The teenage CEO wrote something on the paper then walked towards the boy. The kid flinched initially, but wasn’t able to escape before Kaiba ripped the page out of the little book and held it out to him. The boy took it then looked up at his savior. It was quite a way up, as the boy was barely five feet and Joey knew Kaiba had to be close to six three. 

“I want you to call this number before you go home and I want you to tell them what’s been happening to you.” 

Kaiba’s voice this time was softer. Still tainted with the harshness of before but closer to an overstuffed cushion than a rock. The kid found the courage to ask a question. 

“What is it?” 

“This is the local abuse hotline. The people on the other end deal with callers compassionately and can be trusted.” 

Joey never thought he’d hear the word compassion come out of Kaiba’s mouth. The kid started to stutter but stopped as Kaiba gave him a glance. 

“There is no excuse for abuse. No reason you have told yourself to stay is worth the pain. If you don’t act, you will never escape and whomever hurts you won’t get what they deserve.” 

“But I don’t want them to-” 

“They are in the wrong. You cannot deny that. Blood, friendship, romantic love, they mean nothing where abuse is concerned. You need help and what happens to them will be what needs to happen.” 

The kid lowered his head. He considered something for a moment then looked back up at Kaiba, his eyes shining with tears. 

“Thank you. I will.”

Kaiba wrote something else on the pad and handed the new piece of paper to the kid. There was a moment of confusion, but Kaiba quickly resolved it. 

“My number. Do what you will with it.” 

The ninth grader nodded happily, the tears now sliding freely down his cheeks. He ran forward to give Kaiba a quick and very awkward hug before rushing off down the hall. Kaiba sighed and ran his non-bloody hand through his hair before looking up and noticing Joey standing there. His eyes hardened quickly, a defense of cynicism and sass trying to cover his actions. 

“What are you doing here mutt?” 

Joey stepped forward and flattened the line of his lips. For once the dog hadn’t risen to the challenge. He looked serious, more serious than Seto had seen him. 

“No more of this, Kaiba. We need to talk.” 

Joey pulled open the door of a classroom and ushered the CEO in, unable to resist a “Ladies first,” which Kaiba just sneered at. The room was empty and dark, desks all lined up in perfect rows for the next day. Light from under the door and behind a few curtains cast a blue tint on the whole scene. Seto sat down in one of the nearest desks, muttering about inconvenience and being late for work. Joey sat on the top of another desk, separated from the other by a single, solitary unit. 

Since he had dragged the teenage trillionaire in, Joey began. 

“You seem to know a lot about abuse.” 

Kaiba sighed, a huge weight seeming to press on his shoulders. He didn’t want to even answer, but it was becoming abundantly clear today was the day he’d have to admit what he had hoped to bury. He had avoided questions about his childhood for years and held off ever telling about it, for fear of hurting Mokuba with the inquiries that would no doubt flare up. There had been a couple close calls, but he steadfastly refused to tell anyone. And now he was stuck. He could just leave, but then Joey would hound him constantly for the answers, and he’d have to tell Mokuba, who’d probably cry and remember everything Seto had wanted him to forget. 

If he did tell Wheeler though, there was a chance the press could get wind of it. The geek squad might blab about it for the money and fame. He could see the headlines now. They were always attention seekers, Wheeler most of all, talking about friendship and how great duelists they were. It was so easy to pick on them, but absolutely infuriating when they boasted about winning duels and being happy in life. Well great for them, they didn’t have to claw their way to the top, talent was just gifted to them. Selfish, egotistical, naïve children. He had at least earned the right to be arrogant. 

However, no amount of arrogance or bluster could explain away what Joey had surely witnessed in its entirety. Mokuba, I’m sorry. Kaiba stood tall, towering over the smaller teen. 

“Yes I do know about abuse. I was a victim. Are you happy?” 

On the contrary, the mutt’s countenance became horror stricken. He too stood and gazed intently at Seto as if he’d never quite seen him before. 

“What are you looking at? Go off and tell your little friends already, I’m sick of waiting for the media to get wind of it.” 

Joey shook his head distractedly, barely even engaged in the conversation. 

“No,” he whispered. “No I won’t.” He looked Kaiba in the eyes. “Where?” 

The rest of the question was obvious. Where were you hurt? Seto didn’t want to give any sort of response, but if he was going to disclose what he still believed would make the geek squad famous, he might as well do it all in. Seto slowly pressed down on the indents in his metal gauntlets, releasing them from his arms. He then took off the long white duster and set it on the next row of desks. He pulled back the long, black, leather sleeves of his shirt and folded down the turtleneck so it looked like a normal scoop. Suddenly he turned his forearms outward and held them up for Wheeler to see. 

Joey stared in amazement. All down Kaiba’s arms were short white lines. They were only about two inches wide and ran parallel to his wrists where they stopped. Each line was slightly raised from the surrounding skin, but almost overwhelmed the original pigment with their pervasion. The portion of neck he could see was also a shock. There was only one white scar there but it was about an inch thick and ran in a band around what appeared to be Kaiba’s entire neck with small sharp offshoots. Joey almost felt the need to touch them, just to confirm they were real. The scars on his forearms alarmed him the most. He pointed to them. 

“Is this-Do you cut yourself?” 

Kaiba shook his head, disgust clear in the twist of his lips. 

“No I don’t, but these are made to look as though I did. My abuser thought that if he cut them this way no one would ask questions and just assume they were self-inflicted. Bastard.” 

“And your neck?” 

Kaiba drew in a deep breath. 

“Spiked, dog collar.” 

There was a heavy silence. Joey’d been knocked around but his father never actually cut him. Just bruises and pain. He couldn’t even imagine the screaming terror of being injured with a sharp object. Dog collar though, that explained a lot about why Kaiba’s favorite insult was mutt. He considered a dog the lowest state of being as it was what he’d been reduced to. Joey shuddered. Kaiba lowered his arms. 

“What about you Wheeler? You looked just as ready to punch the living daylights out of that ***hole?” 

The geek squad member started, darkness coating his eyes. The lighting and some unseen horror turned the creamy brown to an almost black. It was almost reminiscent of when Marik had control of his mind. Something evil behind the backs of his eyes. 

“As you love to point out, my family isn’t exactly loaded. We’d have more though, if my Pa wasn’t a boozer. Sometimes the drink gets to him and he gets somewhat active. Towards the wall, towards me.” 

He shrugged. It was Seto’s turn to be shocked. Joey had always been a bit rough around the edges, but he had always assumed it stemmed from a lack of education rather than actual trauma. Somehow along his arrogance-covered self-pity he’d never considered someone in Yugi’s group of friends might have had it just as bad. Seto took a step towards the shorter boy. 

“Does he, cut you?” 

Joey shook his head, a little bit of lightness returning to his voice. 

“Nah, just bruises. Growing up helped a lot because I could fight back. As sad as her leaving when my parents split was, I’m glad Serenity never got any of my problems.” 

But they’re not your problems, Kaiba wanted to say. Your father is the one who hit you, he deserves the blame. Rotten beast. What drives adults to such cruelty? What made their fathers wish them hurt? How can a human being ignore the screams of another? How do you block your ears and stopper your heart? It didn’t seem possible, even for sociopaths who feel little or no emotion at all. Joey’s comment on Serenity was very easy to relate to though. 

“Serenity was gone but she was safe,” Joey muttered, seemingly caught up in that single thought. 

“But as much as you’re glad she wasn’t there, you missed her.” 

Joey’s eyes shot up to Kaiba’s. That was exactly it. From the moment Joey had walked into Room 11b and met the eyes of the young CEO sitting by the window, he’d seen contempt in those deep blue eyes. Now he saw pain and something else he thought he’d never see. Understanding. 

“Is that what happened with Mokuba?” 

Kaiba nodded. 

“My adopted father saw Mokuba as an accessory, the by-product of what he really wanted. We were isolated. He never pushed Mokuba to any particular great genius even though he is barely a couple points below me in IQ. And I encouraged it, in a certain way.” 

Now that didn’t make sense. 

“Why would you encourage him to not educate your brother?” 

A certain fire returned to Kaiba’s eyes. “’Educate’ was not the right word for what he did.” 

There was a pause when Kaiba scanned Joey’s eyes, searching for some sort of judgement. He took a breath, feeling as though he could see it in the darkness of the classroom. 

“My adopted father once reached the same conclusion you did. Educate both, he thought. So he approached my brother without my knowledge and gave him an assignment. Poor, sweet, gentle Mokuba was desperate for any form of affection so he tried it. He hadn’t studied and was probably rather rushed but he got some answers. But some answers are not good enough. They have to be correct. Mokuba snuck into my room that night, holding a paper and smiling. He proclaimed his score triumphantly, but when I hugged him he shuddered. Shook, in my hands.” 

Kaiba glanced down at them now, shivering with the memory. 

“He had tears in his eyes. I begged him to tell me what was wrong, shouted fit to wake the whole house. He pulled up the back of his shirt. Three gashes, across his back. Knife wounds, I could already tell by comparing my own. He didn’t know I had injuries because I had become better at hiding them but I absolutely REFUSED to let that man harm my brother anymore. I stormed from the room and found my adoptive father in his office, already waiting for me. I was so close, so close to killing him, just strangling out his life with my twelve year old hands, sometimes I still wish I did.” 

His hands clenched into fists. 

“But I hadn’t been raised that way and was too stuck on the idea of this life being our only chance to get off the streets. I remembered he was a businessman and I made him a deal. If ever he felt Mokuba had earned a punishment, he was to give it to me.” 

He fell silent. Joey just stared, horrorstruck. He’d taken hits from his father that, judging by his rants, had been meant for his sister or mother. So had Kaiba. 

They’d been hating each other for so long. Joey wasn’t stupid, he knew Kaiba hated him for being idealistic and he hated Kaiba for being arrogant, but both forms of hatred stemmed from how they imagined the other person had been raised. How much time had they wasted only to find they had grown up exactly the same? It was a shame really. 

“We’ve been pretty stupid, haven’t we?” 

Kaiba laughed sourly and ran a hand through his coiffed hair. He kept his eyes low but a smile turned the corners of his lips. 

“Speak for yourself.” He paused. “We most definitely have.” 

Joey slugged Seto lightly on the shoulder, a gesture he would never have considered until this point. He held out his hand. There were no words, but an accord had been reached. Seto lifted his head and his eyes just danced as he grasped Joey’s hand, moving up and down once. Joey smiled wide. There was a voice from outside. 

“Joey! Where are you?”

It was Tea and by the multiple footsteps, it was probably the entire gang. Joey’s vision was obscured by white as something draped over his head. He pulled the cloth off and found himself holding Seto’s coat. 

“What is this for?” 

Seto turned from where he was strapping on his gauntlets. 

“What do you think, Wheeler? You hate me and appear to have stolen my favorite coat. Better run,” he quipped. 

Seto’s lips curved into a genuine smile before deepening into a predatory leer. Joey caught on fast and adjusted the coat in his arms before bursting violently out of the door and rushing down the hall, cackling. Seto gave Joey a two second head start before rushing out after him, shouting as he went, “You are so dead!” He ran through the group with ease, Yugi’s multi-colored hair blurring as Seto hastened past him down the hall. 

“Get back here Joey!” 

Yugi watched as the two teens disappeared around a corner. Téa sighed. 

“There they go, at it again.”

Yugi shook his head, smiling, tears glittering in his eyes. 

“Not exactly. Did you hear what Kaiba said?” 

“No, what was it?” 

“He called Joey by name.”


End file.
